Matheus opened his eyes to his last night as a corpse. He lay on his back, his arms stretched across the bed. He’d dreamt of vague shapes, warm mist, and the scent of the air after a lightning storm. If he closed his eyes, he still felt the damp along his skin, inhaled the tinge of ozone.
“I’m going to be human again,” Matheus said. His voice sounded small in the empty room. He tried again with more enthusiasm. “I’m going to be human again! Fucking hurrah!”
He snorted. He’d met people suffering through withdrawal with more pep. He rolled off the bed. Hopping on one foot, then the other, Matheus slipped on his pants and shoes. Nothing else to do but wait. He sat on the edge of the bed, resting his broken hand on his leg. He wondered what would happen to Quin after he changed back. He wondered if he’d ever seen him again. He wondered if he wanted to.
“Mattias?” Fletcher rapped lightly on the door as she poked her head in.